Intervention
by byebyebirdie58
Summary: Two years after Vietnam, Steve Randle finds himself in the midst of an addiction that's not only hurting himself, but those around him. What's more is that he finds himself facing people and problems he thought he'd left behind long ago.
1. I

**A/n: **I do not own The Outsiders or Suite: Judy Blue Eyes, written by Stephen Stills, and performed by Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. Also, a huge, huge thanks to Latch and Outsiders Misfit and Fosterchild who helped me quite a bit. :) Enjoy!

* * *

_It's getting to the point_

_Where I'm no fun anymore_

_I am sorry._

_Sometimes it hurts so badly_

_I must cry out loud_

_I am lonely._

Four stares filled the room; four faces, each one painted something different. Contempt, nervousness, coolness, and uncertainty. A bitter tension floated above the group but no one dared move. Someone had to make the first move eventually. Seconds, minutes, what seemed like hours passed until the tension was finally cut.

"I don't got to be here," Steve said with the same cocky attitude he'd always had. He began to get up before Evie grabbed his arm firmly.

"Steve, sit down," she said. "Just listen to what we're saying. You have to give us a chance."

"I don't have to do shit," he said, his voice harsh.

"You sure as hell do," Darry said from his own seat. "We're trying to help you Steve." Steve contemplated his options for a moment before sitting down and glaring defiantly. This was not the right time to cross paths with Darry. He was already bad off as it was.

"Well, I'm listening. Now what the hell do y'all want?"

The tension in the room came crashing back and all four people knew the answer. All four people refused to say what it was.

"Steve…" Two-Bit spoke slowly trying to find the right words. "Man … we know things have been rough lately. Hell, they have for all of us. The kid's off to college, Darry's alone, Kathy's gone. But you're digging a hole for yourself, man. You're hurting yourself and you're hurting us. You're pushing us away when we're just trying to help you."

Steve got up once more, ready to strike back. "You're one to talk! The only reason Kathy left you is because you can't never get your nose out of a bottle! From what people tell me, you were stone drunk that night at Buck's."

"That was different, Steve. I saved your goddamned life, sober or not."

"Sit down, Steve. And you sit down, too, Two-Bit. Listen to us before you yell," Darry said, interrupting the argument.

"I've listened to enough of your bullshit, Curtis. I don't have to take this and I don't have a problem!"

"But you do, Steve," he said quietly. His voice was confident but his fists were jammed into his pockets. "We don't want to see you out in the streets winding up like every other junkie. Shooting tar through a needle and selling all you have. We don't want to see you being picked up for stealing again. We're doing this because we don't want to see you gone."

"I ain't going anywhere. I'm right here, just like you."

"Steve," Evie said, "You're not. You're not the old you who used to talk sweet to me and try to act tough when you were around other people."

"Well things have changed. There's nothing you can do about that, Evie."

"I don't like this new you. And there's one thing I can do and I will if I have to. It's me or the drugs, Stevie. Please tell me you'd rather have me than some street drug." Another uneasy silence filled the room and the look in her eyes told the others that she was serious. _"Me or the drugs"_.

"Don't talk like that, Evie. Baby, you know I love you."

"Obviously you love your drugs more. I'm just something to go to when you don't have anything to smoke. Or maybe I was just a time filler for when you weren't bailing on our dates to go get high. Is that it Steve? Because from what I hear, it's not just when we have dates anymore. Am I just something to go to when you're out of money to buy drugs?"

"Our point is," Darry said, cutting between Evie, "You have a problem and we're trying to help you. Steve, we're not trying to be bad guys here, but it's like Two-Bit said. Things are rough on all of us. You're not the only one who lost a friend in Vietnam."

Another silence, another stop in time, another glare. Steve sat numbly on the worn sofa, remembering the letter from Darry. The letter that had arrived two weeks after his best friend's birthday. The letter that had said it happened a week before the birthday. _That _letter.

"You didn't see what I did, Curtis, so you can just shut the fuck up. You don't know what you're saying. Did you watch half your goddamned platoon go down like I did? I was out there hiding in bushes while you slept in a bed. I lived like a damn pig and you have the balls to tell me I lost only one friend there?"

"What we're trying to say is that smack ain't the only way you have to deal with this," Two-Bit said. "We're here for you, buddy. You don't have to put up this front around us."

"Oh, but I do. You see if I don't I'll end up just like Dally. I'll crack and I ain't letting that happen."

"You are like Dally!" Evie shouted. "You're killing yourself with this stuff. It's ruining your from the inside out and you're going to snap just like Dally. I want my old Steve back. The one who isn't desperate enough to steal money for drugs."

"You're one stupid bitch, you know that, Evie?"

The room spun for a moment and no one dared to move. Evie's mouth dropped and Steve stared blankly at his girlfriend. "Evie … baby, listen." But she didn't. Instead, Evie stepped forward and struck Steve's cheek. The red outline of her hand, as well as her ring began to appear on his face. Steve sat back on the sofa, his hand moving gingerly up to his own cheek. "Evie…"

"Listen to me Steven Randle and you listen good. I'm leaving you. I've put up with this long enough and if you think I'll stick around to listen to you treat me like this, you've got another thing coming. If you're not off this shit soon I'll be gone and I won't come back. I love you, Steve; that's why I'm doing this." She turned and opened the door, walking out into the bitter cold night and she didn't look back.

"She'll be back," he said confidently.

"Steve, she won't," Two-Bit said quietly. "She ain't gonna come back as long as keep doing this."

"How would you know?" he asked defensively.

"Kathy said the same thing."

Steve stared for a moment and then began to walk toward the door but was blocked by Darry. "Move, Curtis. I mean it. I ain't in no mood for this."

"Neither am I, Steve, but you're not leaving this place until we get this through to you. I'm sick of hearing you talk like this. You're saying thing things the old you never would have. And that's going beyond 'All brawn and no brains'. You're not leaving until you promise to let us help." Those words rolled hollowly in Darry's head. "_I'd kill every gook I see if it meant getting my best buddy back,"_.

"Help with what? I don't have a goddamned problem!" Steve tried to step around Darry toward the door but was only cut off again. "Let me go or I swear to God, I'm gonna kill you." Darry only stood still, holding Steve's shoulder firmly. With his left hand, Steve clumsily tried to punch him but missed. In return, Darry shoved him roughly into a chair, his eyes flashing angrily.

"Steve, you ain't leaving until you agree to let us help you. Let us help you out."

Steve looked between his two friends; the last two friends he had. What had he done? Those nights when he thought he'd never get home, when he thought he'd never see them again. Now they were right there and he hated them. Steve sighed and nodded.

"If I promise to let y'all help me, will you back off?"

"No," Two-Bit said smiling sadly.

"You're an asshole, you know that Mathews?"

"Fuckin' A we are."

"I ain't going to no rehab if that's what you want."

"Where you gonna then, Steve?" Darry asked. "We're not forcing you into some rehab clinic, but we're not going to watch you rot here."

"I can take care of myself."

"Apparently not if you're acting like this. Look in the mirror, buddy. You're a mess." Steve turned around and glanced in the cracked, dirty mirror. His face was pale and gaunt, his once handsome features now sickly.

"You've pushed everybody out of you life, Stevie. You're pushing us out, you're pushing Evie away." Two-Bit said.

Steve looked back at his reflection. In it, he didn't see himself. There was no Steve Randle, but rather something calling itself so. "Sure," he said. "Sure, help me out." Steve glanced once more into the mirror. If that was what he looked like, he'd do anything to make it go away. And the mirror told no lies.


	2. II

**A/n: **I do not own the Outsiders or the song _High and Dry_, written by Thom Yorke and performed by Radiohead. A huge thanks to Marauder and the Q for giving me a huge help in editing.

* * *

_Two jumps in a week, I bet you think that's pretty clever, don't you, boy?  
Flying on your motorcycle, watching all the ground beneath you drop.  
You'd kill yourself for recognition; kill yourself to never, ever stop.  
You broke another mirror; you're turning into something you are not._

Steve stumbled into the dark apartment, groping around for a light. Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice reminded him of just how hung over he'd be when morning came around. He swore quietly to himself and clumsily felt his way to the couch in the dim light. Two weeks since he'd last touched any sort of drugs. Until tonight. It had just been sitting there and he'd been dry as a bone for at least a week. What harm could one bottle be?

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a mocking voice rang. _Oh, buddy, you really thought you could drink just one? _

That's the last time he'd go to Buck's alone again.

"Shut up," he murmured.

The voices only kept laughing and Steve briefly wondered if he was going crazy. So what if he was? He laughed bitterly, knowing there was nothing actually stopping him from turning right back to the tar. Back to that instant relaxation -- that amazing rush. Back to the best he'd ever felt. So what was stopping him?

But he knew what it was in the back of his mind.

_The mirror, Stevie. Remember what you look like? _

That's what was stopping him. The voices were right. Evie was right … he wasn't himself.

Evie … he hadn't seen her since the night she'd walked out. She hadn't called, hadn't visited, and had avoided the shop he was working in. Oh, God … she'd really been serious. And Steve had seriously fucked up. As he thought of this, he rolled over, groaning, and, slowly but surly, an uneasy sleep began to creep over him. He'd regret this in the morning.

XxXxX

The alarm clock rang off in the other room, still managing to feel as if it was right next to him; for a moment he contemplated getting up and throwing it, but his better sense got the best of him. The first thoughts of the morning began to weave in his head. Yesterday was Sunday which meant today was … shit. Monday. That meant he'd have to be at work. Why had Darry insisted on him getting a job? And cleared out all of the liquor in his place?

He rolled off of the sofa and went into his room to turn the alarm off. He really needed a drink. Maybe he'd go to Buck's for a bloody marry later -- of course, not alone, though. He'd learned that the hard way.

He checked the clock before deciding not to skip work today. Eight forty-five. He slowly began to get ready for work, picking up a clean looking shirt and jeans from the pile that covered the floor of his room. It'd be a long day.

At quarter after nine, Steve stepped out of his apartment building and began to dig in his pocket for money for the bus. He had to be at work in fifteen minutes and the bus ride was twenty.

_Right on time,_ the voice told him.

He sighed and got onto the bus.

After what seemed like forever, the bus slowed down and Steve stepped onto the sidewalk, getting out at the corner of Sutton and Post. Down Sutton was a small car parts shop -- the only place in town that would hire Steve without putting thought into his current physical appearance. There were also no mirrors there to remind him of that. Inside the shop a small man stood behind the counter, flipping lazily through a car magazine.

"Hey, Ernie," Steve said climbing over the counter. "When you working 'til?"

Ernie shrugged and Steve got the idea that it wasn't a car magazine he was looking at. He smiled and laughed a little before turning in to the back room. If it was going to be a slow day, maybe he could nap for a little.

Just as he was about to lay down on a row of tires he heard the chiming of the bell at the front of the store.

_There goes your rest, Stevie. _

Steve walked out of the back room, noticing that Ernie hadn't even looked up. He sighed and wondered how much longer he was on work. Until three, hopefully. Some new kid -- The Cherry was what the voices called him -- was taking hours after school so hopefully he'd taken some for the day. Steve approached the customer and couldn't help but hope today would end soon enough.

XxXxX

Hank Williams. He'd kill Buck one day for making them listen to that shit. And for pity's sake it was the 1970's! Couldn't he put on something tuff like Elvis, or at least more dated? Even The Beatles would have been better than Hank-fucking-Williams.

He sauntered into the bar and took his seat at the end.

_Hey, Stevie, what happened to "I'm not gonna go alone"? _

He rolled his eyes and smiled. Just one Bloody Marry. He could do this. The waitress -- he thought her name was Susan -- slid the Bloody Mary across the bar's and nodded as he paid. Within a matter of minutes, the glass was empty and Steve found himself wishing for another.

_Told ya you couldn't do it, Randle. Nice going'. _He groaned.

"Uh, can I have a, uh … beer, please."

The waitress- Susan- raised an eyebrow but nodded. Gosh, she was pretty. "Thanks," he said exchanging his money for the bottle. "You, uh … come here a lot?"

Susan rolled her eyes at the stupidity of his question, but smiled.

"You can say that, I guess. How about you? I've seen you a couple times."

"Only when I'm hung--" he stopped abruptly hearing protests from the next room. He'd recognize that voice anywhere. "Excuse me." Steve got up and walked into the next room toward some couches.

"This ain't a date, Tommy!" Evie stood on the opposite end of the room, an older man next to her.

"Well, why don't we make it one? You didn't just ask me here to 'talk' did you?" he laughed as if the idea was so unworldly, then made to reach and stroke her cheek.

Bad move.

_You gonna let that slob get away with that, Stevie?_

Hell, no!

"You've got five seconds to get you hands off of her before I break them." Steve advanced towards Tommy, ready to fight him.

"What are you doing here, Steve?" Evie growled. "And what in God's name is in your hand?"

Steve stopped abruptly, remembering the bottle in his hand. "Shit … Evie, it ain't like that. I've been sober for weeks, I swear."

"Well, you're not anymore, are you? Are you hung over, Steve?"

He laughed a little at that. Hell, he couldn't help it; Evie was the only one who'd be able to realize if he was really hung over. And maybe Sodapop but he wasn't here. "Evie, baby, come on. Be reasonable, babe."

"I am being reasonable, Steve. You're lying to me and now drinking, too."

"Lying? You're telling me I'm fucking lying to you? Mind telling me who the hell this guy is then?"

"The difference between you and me is that this really isn't what it looks like, Steve."

"Whoa, wait. Evie, you're dating this guy?" Tommy asked, looking from Steve to Evie.

Evie bit her lip not wanting to answer yes but not wanting to say no, either.

"It's complicated, Tommy. Just leave it at that."

Steve laughed. "So, this is what it seems like. And you had the nerve to say I'd changed?"

"I_haven't, _Stevie. Please, believe me. I haven't changed."

"Sure … I'll believe you, Evie," he said dropping the full beer bottle on the ground. "While I'm at it, you can have a nice fucking life."

Steve turned and stalked out of the bar before he could see the look on Evie's face. Shock? Hurt? Anger? She deserved it. That bitch deserved every bit of it.

_Good going, Randle. Way to hold onto your own girl. _


	3. III

**A/n:** I do not own _The Outsiders _by S.E. Hinton or _Cut My Hair, _written by Pete Townshend and performed byThe Who. Also, a big thanks to my beta, Marauder and the Q for all her help. Enjoy :)

* * *

_I know I should fight_

_But my old man he's really alright,_

_And I'm still living at home_

_Even though it won't last._

The apartment wasn't so bad, really. If he'd opened up the curtains and maybe cleaned up, it would have been fairly nice. One bedroom, a sitting room, a kitchen, and a bathroom. That was all he really needed, anyway. But he still resented the place, and for too many reasons to be sure of. Maybe because he'd moved in after the old man kicked him out; maybe because it reminded him of too many memories that he'd worked so hard to push back. There were a hundred reasons, none of which he wanted to admit. The only reason he could think of now was that it was his own prison.

The days seemed to melt into one. Wake up, go to work, get something to eat, go to sleep. And without drinking it was so much worse. No booze in the place whatsoever. There was no reason there shouldn't have been. They never even checked to see if he had any in there. But he didn't. Every day he went dry as a bone, just making it one day at a time.

_What a life you're living, Stevie. When you ain't killing yourself drinking, you're killing yourself by simply not living. Good going._

Steve sat on his couch, speechless. The voices. He had finally placed their names.

"Why the hell are you doing this to me, old man?"

_You ain't as dumb as I thought you were. I thought you'd never figure it out._

"Why the hell are you here? I thought you never wanted to talk to me again."

_His father only laughed quietly. I guess we've got some things to settle out. First, you ain't as crazy as you think._

"I ain't crazy? I'm talking to my father, who's fucking _dead_!"

_Did I say you weren't crazy? I said you ain't as crazy. And look, you gonna be hardheaded or are you going to listen to me? First, don't talk back. Just listen to me, otherwise people might just think you are crazy. Second, I ain't letting you waste your life like this. You're going to get off your lazy ass and do something with your life. That means cutting out the drugs, the drinking, and getting that girl of yours back._

"She don't want me back. We're done, anyway."

_Fine. You were always hardheaded, just like the old lady. But you ain't gonna let me down. I mean it, boy. You'd better get out of this self-pity shit and make something of yourself._

Steve laughed quietly. What the fuck was that? He decided not to question it. He was crazy and that was that. Instead, Steve dragged himself into the tiny bedroom and rolled off to sleep. Maybe he'd sleep in tomorrow. It was Saturday, after all.

XxXxX

A loud knock on the door jerked Steve out of his sleep. He rolled off of the bed, dazed for a moment, wondering where the knock had come from. Another sharp bang on the door rattled Steve out of his daze. He made his way to the front door where Darry and Two-Bit stood, waiting.

"Hey, ol' buddy! Ain't seen you in a while!"

"I saw you last week, Mathews."

"Well, 'scuse me for missing one of my best buddies."

Steve rolled his eyes, but allowed his friends to pass.

"What are y'all doing here, then?"

"Well, you're not gonna live in this shithole anymore," Darry said, looking around. There were magazines scattered on the floor and the rug needed to be vacuumed. "You've got to get this place in better shape."

"So, what are y'all gonna do?"

"You're going to get this place in shape. We'll help."

Two-Bit walked towards the TV and turned it on, then sat on the couch. "Actually, Darry's going to help. I'm here for moral support ... Damnit, I hate this show. Whenever I come home, the kid has it on. What the hell is so damn entertaining about a rat and his girlfriend?" He got up to turn the TV off and then sat back down on the couch. "I guess I'll help y'all now." He bent over and began to pick up the scattered Playboys and car magazines before sitting back down to read one. "I helped."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Get up or get out, Two-Shit."

Two-Bit only laughed and began stacking more magazines.

"I think I've got a vacuum somewhere in the closet. I'll clean my room, I guess."

Darry raised an eyebrow, surprised that Steve was cooperating, but decided not to question it. "Sure thing, Steve."

Steve stalked off to his room, secretly annoyed that they had interrupted his sleep. He sighed at the sight of it. It was worse than the sitting room; the bed unmade, clothes on the floor, and drawers flung open. He hadn't even been this bad when he'd lived back home.

_Look what you've turned into, kid. This place is a mess._

"You weren't exactly known as 'housekeeper' either, old man."

_True there, Steve._

He began to sort clean clothes -- or what looked like clean clothes -- from the dirty ones until he came across a small box. What was this? He didn't remember ever seeing it before. Opening it, he saw several pictures. He smiled despite himself. There was one of Evie and him from when they were around sixteen; she still hadn't lost any of her looks. One of Sandy and Soda. He'd felt bad for her despite the fact that she'd left Soda.

Sorting through the rest of the box, he found an unopened envelope at the bottom.

_Private Steven Randle - November 29th, 1967 - Da Nang, Vietnam._

Steve closed his eyes and groaned.

_Open the letter, Steve._

"No," he whispered.

'_No' isn't an option. Open the damned letter_

Steve opened the letter and began to read. It had come four weeks after Soda's death.

_Steve,_

_Well, you're out in 'Nam now. I ain't never been in a war, but I remember when the old man went off to World War Two. He came back with a Purple Heart. I guess that doesn't make you feel much better, does it? Well … I'm proud of ya, Steve. I know I don't act like that much, but I am, and you have to believe me. I just want you to come home alive. And I mean that in a lot of ways. Just don't turn out like my old man, okay, Stevie?_

_- Dad_

Steve stared blankly at the letter before placing it back in the box. When he was done cleaning the rest of the room, he took the letter out of the box again and set it on his beside table. He'd have to make it right somehow. Just how, he wasn't sure.


	4. IV

**A/n**: I do no own _The Outsiders _by S.E. Hinton. Furthermore, I do not own _After the Ceasefire _by Marianne Faithfull or _Fire and Rain _by James Taylor. Enjoy :)

* * *

_After the ceasefire that they swore would last,  
They had the strange idea of living in the past.  
That's where love lies bleeding, licking at its wounds,  
The times are never changing sticking to their guns._

He wasn't a bad guy, really. Actually, he was great. But he was so different from Steve … in a good and bad way. He didn't swear like Steve, but maybe she'd miss that. He wasn't as hotheaded, either. But still, she knew she shouldn't have been with him. He was everything she wanted and everything she didn't.

The car rolled down the street and she only pretended to pay attention to the scenery. His hand began to move towards her thigh and she sighed.

"What's wrong, babe?" he asked.

She doubted he really cared.

"Nothing, Tommy. I'm just thinking."

"Oh, and what about?"

"Stuff. Just got a lot on my mind."

He really wasn't so bad. She was sure that he actually cared about what she thought, but she just couldn't tell him. She wouldn't be able to find words big enough to tell him. How could she love two men at once? And love two very different, very similar men, at that ….

"How can I help take anything off your mind?"

Sure, he had another idea of help, but Evie ignored it.

"Can we just talk?"

His face dropped for a moment, but he covered it quickly. "We can talk about anything you want to, babe."

Babe. She wasn't his "babe." "Tommy, I told you, don't call me that. Please."

He laughed quietly before nodding. He had a quiet laugh, different than Steve's loud, rowdy one. "Anything you want."

"How did we meet, Tommy?"

"Hmm? I think we met in class. Why?"

Class sounded right. Right after Steve had left for Vietnam was when she'd met him. And she'd been so confused. Those times where she'd tried to stay just friends, but somewhere it didn't work; it couldn't work. He reminded her too much of him.

"Just wondering. Thinking …."

He laughed quietly and pulled her closer to him. The rain began to pour lightly on the windshield and Evie listened to the song playing. _Just got to see me through another day… _

She sighed and closed her eyes, letting the music take her where Tommy couldn't find her. Where things were right again and she wasn't so confused.

XxXxX

She'd finally been able to get him to leave. How he had so much energy, she'd never be sure of; she knew that she wasn't in any mood for him, though.

Bob Dylan played from the kitchen. She didn't care for him much, but Susan kept his records around the place, and besides, he was okay sometimes.

A cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other, Evie had begun to make her way to the couch when a sharp knock on the door interrupted her. She walked over to the door, opening it a crack with the chain still in place.

"Evie ... Evie, I gotta talk to you. Please." Steve stood in the doorway, looking nervous and tired.

"Steve, have you been drinking? Or …." She wouldn't say the worst.

"No, I ain't been doing nothing like that. I need to talk to you, though. Your roommate home?"

"No, Susan doesn't get back 'til Friday," she said, opening the door to let him in. "Steve, what are you doing here?"

He not only looked tired and nervous, but that paranoid look in his eyes was back. She knew that look from when he'd first gotten home from 'Nam.

He thrust a letter into her hands for her to read and sat on the couch, waiting. She skimmed it quickly, deciphering the messy handwriting. Her heart sank at the end of it.

"Stevie … baby, I don't know what to tell you."

"Tell me what the hell to _do_, Evie," he said desperately. "I ain't slept in weeks, I can't eat. Evie … I don't know what to do anymore."

She sat next to him and wrapped her arms around him. She didn't know what to tell him, either. "I can't tell you, baby. I don't know."

"Take me back." He said it so simply, like it could have been done, just like that.

"Steve, I can't. I can't. Not just like that. It's too complicated."

"You still love me, don't you, Evie?"

"Steve, of course, it's just-"

"Then you can take me back, can't you? It ain't too complicated if you still love me."

She sighed and buried her head into his neck. Before she knew what she was doing, she allowed him to take her into the bedroom.

"Steve, no. Please, no."

"Evie, come on, your roommate ain't gonna be back until Friday."

She laughed quietly. "I know, Steve, but …"

"But what?" He already had his shirt off and was beginning to undo hers.

"Nothing."

XxXxX

A pang of guilt shot through her as she shifted underneath his arm. How could she have been able to tell him the truth? She began to dress and looked at the clock.

"You have work, Stevie?"

"Mmm? Not 'til … what time is it?"

"Quarter after eight."

"Shit. Not 'til ten." He rolled out of the bed and began to dress as well. Suddenly, he looked less confused and didn't look as tired. He smiled and Evie could have sworn that his face looked different; everything looked different when he smiled. His grin grew wider as he stepped closer and grabbed her waist. She wasn't expecting the kiss that came next and gasped in shock; she didn't resist it, though. Instead, she allowed her own lips to press against his until they parted for breath.

"Don't stop," she whispered.

He laughed. Not Tommy's quiet laugh, either- she didn't know which she liked better. "I'm taking a shower. That okay?"

"Sure …" she said, still lost in his kiss.

He laughed again and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

Evie shook her head before walking out of the bedroom and into the tiny kitchen to make breakfast. She wouldn't need to be at work until eleven. The smell of eggs wafted through the tiny apartment. She knew just how Steve liked his eggs. They were the same way she liked hers; scrambled with pepper and salt in them.

Her thoughts began to drift as she reached to turn on the radio. A Beatles song came on, though she wasn't sure which one. Cooking always made her think.

She still didn't know who she loved … or how she could love them both. Maybe she loved one of them more? She sighed … Steve was trying so hard. And Tommy was there for her at all the right times. He was always there to listen to her, always there when she cried. How could she choose?

A pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist and she leaned into his chest and sighed. She couldn't choose. She couldn't say no to either of them and she couldn't stop loving him. Everything about him was wonderful and too hard to leave. She couldn't choose.


	5. V

**A/n: **I do not own _The Outsiders _by S.E. Hinton or _We Can Work it Out_, written by John Lennon and Paul McCartney, and performed by The Beatles. Enjoy. :)

* * *

_Try to see it my way,  
Only time will tell if I am right or I am wrong.  
While you see your way,  
There's a chance that we may fall apart before too long._

The door was always unlocked. When he'd come home from Vietnam, his house wasn't the first place he'd gone to; this was. The place with an open couch no matter what and where his friends were bound to be. But the house had seemed so different and so much emptier. He supposed it had reason to. But the door was still open, as always, and that was one thing that he hoped would never change.

Walking into the tiny room, Steve grinned at what was on the couch.

Instead of finding Pony or Darry watching TV as he'd expected, Pony seemed to have other plans and Darry was nowhere to be seen.

"Who's your friend, kid?" he asked, amused at what the kid's reaction might be.

A loud thud on the floor and a series of swears was the reaction. Pony had jumped at the sound of Steve's voice, then fallen off of the girl and onto the floor. Straitening out his shirt, while glaring, he said, "You can't knock, Steve?"

Steve only grinned more broadly. "I wasn't aware you was home."

"Since Tuesday. What'd you come here for?"

He laughed again, as the girl began to straighten out her skirt. "Still haven't answered my question, kid. Who's your friend?"

Pony glared at Steve, while the girl turned an even deeper shade of red.

"Peg, this is Steve Randle, my brother's buddy."

Peg only nodded, not looking at Steve.

"Pony … I think I left something, uh, in the oven ... I'll see you later tonight?"

"Yeah, okay. I'll pick you up around seven," he said, walking her to the door.

"Be _safe_, kids," Steve said, still smiling.

Pony wheeled around and advanced on Steve. "What the fuck was that, Randle?"

"Can I ask you the same thing, Ponykid?"

"It wasn't anything, Steve."

"Didn't look like nothing. Looked a lot like second base to me. How far have you gotten, kiddo?"

Pony glared, stalking off to the kitchen, as if he expected Steve to really leave him at that.

"I'm seventeen, Randle. I ain't a kid."

"Obviously not. Your brother know you're whoring around with the ladies? Let me ask you something. Have you gone 'all the way'? Do all the girls just fall for you on campus?"

By this time Pony had turned a deep shade of red, much to Steve's amusement.

"But I've gotta ask, what ever happened to that pretty girl of yours … Cathy, wasn't she?"

"Why do you care? We broke up, anyway."

"Aw, were there other girls? Better, _bigger_ girls? That Peg of yours was doin' pretty good from what I could tell. Maybe I could try her out and see for myself?"

Pony glared. "I wonder what Evie'd say if she heard you were into younger girls. Anyway, don't you have work or something?"

Steve grinned even more at Pony's threat, but was slightly troubled. He was still confused about Evie. "It's a Sunday, kiddo. Places are closed," he said, making a seat on the counter. "So, really, how long have you known Peggy? Give me the update. I want to be in the know, too. Does Darry know? Does he approve of his baby brother dating such a developed girl?"

"Darry's met her. And we ain't dating. It's just a fling."

"One night stands, then? You dog, you."

"I don't know what Soda ever saw in you, Steve."

"Well, it was just a _fling_, you know?" Steve paused for a moment, half-troubled by the kid's remark. After an awkward silence, Steve mumbled, "I see him in you, you know … You're kind of like Soda."

Now it was Pony's turn to be caught off guard. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well … uh, you're just like him a lot. You know, girls being all into you, being all understanding and shit like that. I always liked that about you, kid ... It's also why you piss me off lately. You really are a lot like him."

Pony shifted awkwardly. "He wrote me a letter once. You know, when he was in 'Nam ... He told me you didn't hate me, really. I never thought that was true."

Steve paused for a moment. Even in Vietnam Steve and Soda wrote. They wrote when they could, since it was harder for grunts to write, but they did every chance they got. Soda'd once asked him to be good to Pony when he got back to the World.

"Yeah, well, I don't. You're a good kid … person. Ain't much of a kid no more, really…" Steve looked at the ground awkwardly, not knowing what else to say.

Pony nodded. "Truce?"

"Only 'til the next time I see you making bases with a girl."

Another long silence and a small laugh. "Well, look, kid, I only came around to look for Darry, so tell him I was here when you see him."

"I'll do that. See you later, Steve."

"Yeah … see you around, kid … man … whatever."  
_  
I appreciate it, Steve. I appreciate you looking out for him, I mean._

"Great, now I've got you talkin' to me, too," he said, smiling. He didn't really mind all that much. At least it wasn't the old man this time.

XxXxX

"You've cleaned this place up a lot, Stevie."

"Yeah, well, I'm trying, I guess."

Evie smiled over her cup of coffee. "Yeah, you are, Steve. Thank you for that."

Steve was quiet for a moment as a flashback came to his mind. That guy she'd been with … Tommy. "Evie, who's Tommy?"

_This ain't gonna get you back your girl, boy.  
_  
He didn't care. Steve looked at Evie carefully, knowing that he'd caught her off guard.

"He's a friend I met," she said finally. "Just a friend from one of my classes."

"When'd you meet him?"

_Drop it, Steve. Come on, buddy. _

Evie stared at Steve desperately, begging for a break. "Stevie … nothing's ever gone on. He's just a good friend of mine, you know?"

"No, I really don't know, Evie. I didn't like when he asked if we was dating. Made it sound like he didn't know something. And what about when you said 'this isn't a date?' That sounded a lot like you'd been together before."

_Maybe they were, boy, but what in the Sam hill do you care? She's with you now._

"We hadn't, Stevie. Please, believe me, baby. We'd never been together."

"Evie, you know I want to believe you, but I don't know. I can't."

_You can and just move on. Don't be bitter and don't lose her, man. You know what happened to me.  
_  
"I don't know if I can believe all this shit you're throwing out. I don't know if I can believe that you're 'just friends.'"

"All of this _shit_, Steve? You want to know what shit _really _is?" she shouted, standing up. "_Shit _is you bailing on our fucking dates because you seemed to have more important things to do with a bottle and some smack. _Shit _is you disappearing for two weeks with some junkies. That's shit, Steve Randle. I'd know, since you're fucking full of it."

"If I remember, I've been keeping _my _end of the deal. _I've _been sober and I ain't done nothing in nearly two goddamned months, Evie. I think I remember you saying me or the drugs, right? You want to know something funny, though? I was kind of thinking you'd keep your end of the deal, too. You know, me or him sort of thing."

_Boy, if I could come down there, I'd kick your ass so hard it'd be purple until next Christmas. _

"Will you shut the fuck up?"

Evie blinked for a moment, surprised at the two sudden outbursts. She wasn't sure of which one to address. "Steve, I didn't say anything …"

"Shit … no, Evie, I wasn't …" Steve buried his head in his hands and sighed.

"You feeling okay, Steve?"

"No, Evie, I'm not fucking okay. I'm hearing shit I ain't supposed to be and I've got to deal with your shit on top of it. I ain't_okay_."

She got up and placed her hand on his forehead, but Steve quickly slapped it away. "Don't, Evie."

"Stevie, you don't feel warm. You should lie down."

He sighed in frustration. "Evie, go. Just go for now. I'll call you when I'm feeling better.

_Steve, you dumbass. Don't push her away._

_Listen to your friend, boy. He's got a better head than you do.  
_  
Steve growled. "Go away, now!"

Evie blinked, at first confused, then astonished, and finally offended. "Fine, Stevie. … I'll see you later," she said skeptically.

"No, Evie, I didn't mean that. Please, can we just talk about this?"

But it was too late. Evie had already shut the door behind her.

"I fucking hate you guys."


	6. VI

**A/n: **I do not own _The Outsiders _by S.E. Hinton or _I Am a Rock _written by Paul Simon and performed by Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel. Enjoy. :)

* * *

_Don't talk of love,_

_But I've heard the words before;_

_It's sleeping in my memory._

_I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died._

_If I never loved I never would have cried._

She turned into the small parking lot and turned off the car, praying he was working today. Walking into the small shop, there was only a young boy and a middle aged man at the counter. The boy seemed busy, but the man was only reading some kind of magazine.

Evie walked up the desk, cleared her throat, and smiled. "Would you happen to know if Steve's come in today?"

The man put down his magazine and looked her over. She did the same to him; nothing impressive about him. He looked middle-aged, with a receding hairline and a slight beer gut.

"He ain't in here. Might be in the back room." The man shifted on his stool and spoke to the younger boy. "Anderson, Randle in?"

"Yes'ir," he said. "want me to go look for him?"

He nodded and the boy went to the backroom to find Steve.

Evie shifted awkwardly, not sure what to do, and looked around the dingy shop.

The man glanced at her again. "You Randle's girl or something?"

"You could say that … When does he get off?"

The man shrugged and glanced at the clock. "Six, I guess. It's five 'til, anyway."

Just then, the door to the backroom opened and Steve came out, looking annoyed. "What'd you go botherin' me for, Ernie? I was almost done with that car."

Evie smiled, noticing his grease-covered hands; something she remembered best about him. "Steve."

He turned toward her and cursed quietly. "What're you doing here, Evie?"

"It's been two weeks, Stevie. You didn't call and I got worried. I just wanted to make sure you were fine."

"Well, I'm here and I ain't dead. You satisfied?"

"Stevie, come on, take a ride with me, please. I want to talk to you. We need to sort some things out."

"I'm busy. You didn't exactly come when I was on R&R."

"You ain't anymore, Randle. You're off in a minute, anyway. Get on outta here."

"I ain't done with that Buick," he said, ready to argue.

"Finish it later. Get out of here, Randle."

Steve grunted, but didn't argue any further. Instead, he grabbed his coat and began to walk out the door. Before following him, Evie turned to the older man, Ernie, and smiled gratefully.

Stepping out of the shop, she shivered, glad she was about to get into her car.

"I'm driving," Steve said.

"What?"

"I said I'm driving."

Evie sighed and handed him the keys. He opened her door and she waited as he slid in on his own side and started the car. The radio came on, and there was an awkward silence between the two as Steve sped down the street. How he'd ever managed to avoid an accident so far was beyond her.

Resting her head back on the seat, Evie began to think about what they'd talk about. They needed to get a lot out of the way.

XxXxX

She felt the car stop, and Steve nudged her gently. She opened her eyes and took in the surroundings. They were closer to the west side of town; in fact, she was almost sure Tommy lived only a few minutes away.

She stepped out of the car as Steve opened her door. "Where're we going?"

He shrugged and lit a cigarette. "I thought we'd go for a walk." He handed her the cigarette and then lit his own.

Evie nodded and took a drag. A February night wasn't the best time for a walk, but the sky was clear and she could see the full moon peek out behind a cloud. She sighed as an uneasy silence followed the two. "What do you want to talk about, Steve? I guess you've got some questions, right?"

"Guessed right. Who's this Tommy guy? What's going on with you two?"

She sighed and took in another drag. Tommy had just been there, always at the right time. He'd dried her tears when Steve was in Vietnam, been understanding when she didn't want to talk … She'd never meant for anything else to happen. But it had and she couldn't take it back. When Steve came home she tried to go back to him, but Tommy was still there. He'd inevitably become part of her life and she just couldn't change that. No matter how much she loved Steve -- and she was almost certain she still did -- she couldn't change the fact that Tommy was still there, and he certainly wasn't making things easier for her.

"He's a friend. I met him in a class at the junior college. While you were away he was really good to me, and I guess we just became good friends."

"Good friends? What do you mean by that?"

"Friends the same way you are with Two-Bit Mathews, Steve. Nothing's ever gone on between us."

Steve gave her a skeptical look and Evie sighed. "We dated a few times. He was always good to me while your were gone and I guess we just started going out sometimes. We never did anything serious -- he's not that kind of guy. He just took me out to dinner sometimes."

"You mean when I wasn't there?"

"When you were meeting your friends or doing drugs, yeah. He understood how I felt and he just made me feel real good about myself."

Steve sighed and Evie looked up at him. There was no anger, no sadness … nothing. He looked completely unemotional. She tried to put her hand in his, but he only brushed her away.

"So, you cheated on me?"

"Stevie, I didn't mean to. I've never stopped loving you … things just happened. We couldn't help it. I never slept with him."

"And you think that makes it any better, Evie? You still cheated on me. You think that don't never hurt me?" His hands flew to his temples and he began to rub them furiously. Evie watched as his lips silently formed words.

"Stevie, are you okay?"

"No, I ain't _okay_, Evie. Just leave it at that."

"Steve, what's going on? I have my share of questions, too. What happened a few weeks ago? What was that, Steve?"

"You want to know what that was? I'm goin' crazy, Evie. Crazier than a shit house rat. I'm hearing things, Evie -- things I ain't supposed to hear. I'm talking to my old man." Steve sat down on the bench and buried his face in his palms. "What the hell is happening to me?"

Evie's mouth fell open a little bit; she was unable to think of anything to say. She sat down and put her arms around him, holding him tightly. "I really don't know, Steve."

"How do I make them go away? Soda's there, too. That's who I was talking to. Not you … You've got to believe me, I'd never say that to you. I just don't know what to do. Sometimes I feel like I'm back in Vietnam and I won't make it home. I see all these guys I knew and I have no idea what to do. I don't know if it's real or I'm just seeing things."

Evie stood up and took Steve's hand. "Come on. Let's get you home."

He nodded numbly and followed her to the car, letting Evie drive this time.

XxXxX

She sat down on the unmade bed and looked over at Steve. His eyes looked tired and he'd let his hair fall in dull curls across his face.

"You leaving?"

"Do you want me to?"

Steve shook his head and pulled back the covers for her. "No, stay."

Evie slid under, still dressed, and allowed Steve to wrap his arms around her. She closed her eyes and let out a shaky sigh. Before she could stop herself, everything that had been held in came spilling out. Tears spilled down her cheeks and she felt Steve pull her closer.

"Just tell me this, Evie. Who do you love more? Me or Tommy?"

Evie sighed and rested her head against his chest. She didn't know how to answer. "You, Stevie." She hoped she wasn't lying.

She closed her eyes again and let sleep slowly come over her. It'd been a long night.


	7. VII

**Note: **This fic/chapter is being posted as part of "Good Fic Day," an effort to raise the quality of writing here. We hope to encourage more writers to improve the quality of their own fan fiction - spell check, grammar check, keep the gang in character, outline, plot and don't use Mary Sues. Good fan fiction requires effort, and we would like to encourage other writers to rise to the challenge of producing better fan fiction, not only for our readers, but for S.E. Hinton, who created the wonderful book we are trying to honor.

**A/n:**I do not own _The Outsiders_ by S.E. Hinton, nor do I own _Stairway to Heaven, _written by Robert Plant and Jimmy Page, and performed by Led Zeppelin. Enjoy. :)

* * *

_Yes, there are two paths you can go by_

_But in the long run_

_There's still time to change the road you're on._

_And it makes me wonder._

He crouched behind several bushes, a rifle in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He looked around and noticed that he was alone. Not only that, but an uneasy silence hung over the vast terrain; no gun shots, no helicopters -- nothing.

Suddenly, there was a sharp tap on his shoulder, and Steve wheeled around. Standing in front of him was his father with a slightly amused look on his face.

"Jumpy, ain't you, boy?"

Steve blinked, confused about what was going on. "Dad? What are you doin' here?"

"I'm here to talk to you, kiddo. Take a walk."

"Are you fucking crazy, old man? You want to get your head shot off out here? I ain't getting up."

Bill Randle glared at his son. "Watch what you say, Steve. An' we ain't gonna get hurt. Stop being stubborn and just listen to me."

Steve looked over the bushes and saw no movement. He slowly got up, and began to follow his father. "Where're we going, then?"

Bill shrugged and looked over at Steve. "Want to give me a light?"

"Huh? Oh … uh, yeah, sure." He shifted the rifle to his left shoulder and pulled out a Zippo.

"It's already lit."

"What?" Steve asked, confused.

"The cigarette, son. It's lit."

Steve looked to his hand, and saw that the cigarette was indeed lit. He handed it to his father, more confused than ever.

"What's going on?"

"Sit down, son."

Steve looked from his father and saw that they were now by a shore. He sat next to his father on a fallen tree branch.

"So you got that letter, then?"

"How'd you know about that?"

"You stupid, boy? I fucking wrote it. Why'd you ignore it for so long, anyway?"

Steve sighed, not sure why he had. "I ignored all my mail after that if I could. No offense or nothing, but you ain't really a voice of comfort most times."

Bill took a drag on the cigarette and laughed. "I guess so."

Steve looked at the shore and watched the waves crash on the wet sand. "So … uh, what're you here for?"

"You should know. You're the one going crazy."

"Look, old man, I ain't gonna talk to you like this. Why the fuck are you here?"

"Steve, your mouth is gettin' real old."

Steve rolled his eyes and kicked absently at the sand.

"I'm here 'cause you obviously can't do this shit on your own. Hearing the voices of two people who died ain't never good. Next you'll be hearing your brother's voice. Hell, you was just a baby when Will died."

"You sick that guy on me and I'll fucking bring you back from the dead to kill you. I've had good practice in killing."

"So, this whole country's turned you into some tough, heartless killer?"

Steve shifted his rifle, avoiding his father's eyes. "Nah … it's just we got used to it, you know? It ain't nothing new, having to go out and fight. It's hard to explain, I guess."

"Now you're sounding like your grandfather." Bill's voice sounded resentful.

Steve shrugged and looked over at his father. "So, Dad, what'd you come here for?"

"I guess it's hard to explain, right? Caring about your own goddamned son can be just as hard to explain as killing a couple gooks."

Steve didn't respond only averted his eyes.

"Look, son, it ain't right that you're hearing us. I'll see you someday up there, but not now."

Steve laughed. "You're in Heaven?"

"Who the fuck said I wasn't goin' to Heaven? I had a Bible! I went to church."

"Like hell you did, old man; when you were sober."

Bill laughed and took another drag on his cigarette. "Look, son, I'm not leaving until you fix this shit up, but listen here: this isn't good. Get your life back, get your girl back, and for Christ's sake, get a better job. A car parts shop that don't even have all the right parts? You graduated high school, son. Do something with your life."

"What do you want me to do, Dad?"

"What do you want to do, Steve? Think real hard on it."

Bill tossed his cigarette into the sand and ground it out with his heel. He got up and walked toward the shore before turning to Steve. "And don't blame your mother for taking off like she did. She had her reasons and I still love her. You was too young to understand, but she loved you, too."

Turning to face the cold water, Bill Randle waded through and began to swim, until he was just a dot on the horizon, and Steve was left standing alone.

XxXxX

He opened his eyes, sleepily, and cursed himself for falling asleep on the couch. Getting up, he rubbed his back and stretched. He'd really need to replace that shitty couch sooner or later. Hopefully sooner.

Checking the time, Steve sighed in relief that it was a Sunday. No work, thank God. He made his way to the bathroom and began to get ready for the day -- or what was left of it. It was already noon.

Once he was dressed and showered, Steve stepped out of the apartment and walked toward the bus stop, deciding to visit Darry.

Getting on the bus, he paid his fare and took a seat in the back. A million thoughts began to run through his head, none of them ones he wanted to think of.

_How about you start with our little talk last night?_

Steve groaned and thought: _Not fucking now, Dad._

_Suit yourself, but I know you remember it. You ain't gonna ignore me forever. _

Steve tried to block his father's voice out, but it persisted.

_Do you want me to get your brother on you? 'Cause I fucking will!_

"Fine! I'll fucking do it!" Steve suddenly looked around in horror, realizing that he had just yelled that out loud in public. "Shit …" He sank down into his seat and groaned, not speaking for the rest of the ride.

Getting off of the bus, Steve averted people's gazes from his scene before._Fuckers_, he thought.

He began to walk toward St. Louis street. It was only a short walk, maybe a block away, and Steve was grateful for that. For March it was awfully cold out. Before he knew it, Steve stood at the Curtises' front door, and opened it.

The TV was on, along with the radio, and Steve could hear a girl and a boy talking from one of the bedrooms. Looking down the hall, he saw Pony standing, his back to the door, arguing with someone.

"Peg, this just ain't a good day to be around."

"But_why_, Pony?" Steve heard Peg's voice carry through the door.

"Look, Peggy, I'll make this up to you, I promise." He watched as Pony disappeared behind the door that was hiding Peg. A few moments later, they both came out, Peg still looking annoyed.

Pony looked slightly surprised to see Steve in the den. "Uh, hey, Steve."

"Hey, kid."

"You remember Peg, right?"

Steve grinned. "Sure do. How's it going, Peggy?"

She only rolled her eyes, flipping her hair over one shoulder, and walked out the door.

"Looks like you've got quite a piece of work cut out for you."

"She's a brat," he said simply. "But she's worth it most times."

Steve laughed, and clapped Pony on the back. "Looks like you've grown up, kiddo. But why the rush to get her out of the house? You got another girl?"

Pony laughed awkwardly. "Nah … I just really didn't want the company today. What'd you come over here for, anyway?"

"Lookin' for your brother. Any idea where he is?"

"He's out back fixing something or another. Want me to go get him?"

"Yeah, sure thing, Pony."

Pony walked out the back door, and Steve walked to the kitchen and began to search the ice box. He came out with a pitcher of milk and poured himself a glass. A moment later Pony and Darry came into the small room.

Darry smiled, wiping his brow. "Hey, Steve. How's it going?"

Steve shrugged. "Okay, I guess. I meant to ask you about sign ups for the junior college. I know you're going. When's it too late to send in applications?"

Darry cocked an eyebrow, looking surprised, but still smiled. "End of April is the deadline. You can pick up applications and the like in one of the offices. What're you going back for, anyhow?"

Steve shrugged again, taking a sip of his milk. "Not sure, but I ain't spending my life in that shitty little shop. I mean they ain't even got the right parts for some things."

Darry laughed absently, then his face grew serious. "You got the money to go back, Steve?

Steve shifted awkwardly, and nodded. "Yeah … the old man left me a bunch of money 'fore he died. It wasn't too much, but I mean it gets me by on rent each month. I guess that and the money coming in from the shop can do me good for now."

Darry nodded and smiled. "I'm proud you're going back. Does Evie know?"

"Nah, not yet. I mean I'm still thinking on this. I ain't sure if I really want to go to school just yet, but I think I am."

"You could do it if you wanted. If you've been sober an' clean for five months now, I think you can go through college."

"Yeah, I guess I could," he said, smiling a little. There was an easy silence between the three, and Steve looked over at the clock. "I'm gonna get going. I might stop by Two-Bit's new place. Never thought he'd bother an' move out of his place."

"See you, Steve. Take care of yourself."

Steve nodded, giving briefly shaking both Pony's and Darry's hands. He walked out the front door, his hands in his pockets, and began to whistle tunelessly.

_Looks like I ain't gonna need to get your brother after all. Good work._

Steve laughed quietly and smiled. Looked like he did a good job, after all.


	8. VIII

**A/n:** I do not own _The Outsiders _by S.E. Hinton, nor do I own _All Along the Watchtower _by Bob Dylan. Enjoy. :)

* * *

_There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke._

_But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate,_

_So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late._

Steve wanted to kick Two-Bit Mathews in the head. He really did. What the fuck had he even been thinking?

_Oh, yeah, goin' to Buck's sounds like a real good fucking idea, son. _

He really hadn't thought of actually drinking until he got there and now it was too late. He had didn't have any ride home without Two-Bit, and the next bus stop was a good two miles away.

Steve sighed and opened the door of the bar, looking for his buddy. He knew Two-Bit would be sober, but how sober, he wasn't sure; enough to drive at least. If there was anyone that Steve could give props to, it was Two-Bit. He might not have won Kathy back, but he'd at least been able to control his drinking. But Steve still didn't trust himself with it … not after last time. Wasn't that when his father and Soda had first come along, anyway?

He sighed and pushed the thought away. Making his way to the bar, he was sure to have his eyes peeled for Two-Bit. For all he knew, the guy was upstairs already.

"Steve Randle! Ain't seen you 'round here in a while."

Steve looked up to see Buck grinning at him, his hand extended, and his teeth as yellow as ever. Regardless, he smiled and grasped Buck's hand, shaking it. Buck might have played dirty in races, but he was really an okay guy.

"How's it goin', Buck? I've been around, just taking care of life."

Buck smiled again and nodded sagely. "Life's important, good buddy. You lose it and you ain't living no more."

_No shit,_ he thought. Buck was a good guy, but he was downright stupid sometimes.

Steve took his seat at the end of the bar and looked it up and down. Not too busy at the moment; after all, it was only five o'clock on a Saturday. The bar still had time to fill up. There was a small woman who Steve had seen once or twice in the middle of the bar, and at the very end, a Negro man sat, hunched over a newspaper.

Steve turned to the waitress, realizing it was that Susan girl who he'd seen before.

She turned to him and flashed a small smile. "How can I help you?"

"Hey, Susan, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"Cool, Susan. I like that. Mind getting me a Budweiser?"

"Sure thing, uh …"

"Steve," he said, smiling wryly. He imagined he at least looked better than the last time he'd come.

"Sure thing, Steve."

Steve watched her walk away, forcing his gaze from her rear. He felt a slight pang of guilt at the prospect of cheating on Evie. Sure, he'd fooled around with other girls -- and he still would too but he didn't think he was thinking of Susan in a just "fooling around way."

He was torn out of his mental conflict by the sound of several obnoxious laughs. He knew those laughs, too.

"Shepard, last time I checked, the drinking age was twenty-one. What're you doin' in here?"

Curly Shepard laughed, his dumb smile growing. He really did look like his older brother. He didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.

"Randle, you ain't a day over twenty-one," Curly said.

"You really ain't so dumb, kid. 'Least I'm closer to twenty-one than you. Less'n a month now. But Curly, what're you doin' here anyway? Shouldn't you be in the cooler or something?"

Curly glared. "Mind your own fucking business, Randle, you pussy."

Just as Steve was ready to react he saw Susan slide the beer toward him. He reached for his wallet.

"No need, Steve. By order of Buck."

"What, Buck trying to pick me up or something?" he asked, smiling.

Susan laughed, and her eyes sparkled a bit. She was real pretty.

Steve took a sip of the beer and closed his eyes. _You can do this, Steve. One bottle and you're good. _

He took another sip, smaller, letting himself savor the flavor. He could do this.

"Hey, Joey, what do you know? Who ever thought we'd find a Negro sittin' in Buck's?"

Steve ground his teeth as he heard Curly chuckle.

"And in your seat, too, Curly. Think we should teach this fella' a lesson?"

"I think we should, Joey."

Steve put the bottle down and cursed them for disturbing his drinking.

"I don't think this is your place to really teach anyone a 'lesson,' Curly. I mean, you're the one who couldn't even pass Wood Shop in school."

"You're one nosy son of a whore, Randle."

Steve laughed and got up. "If we beat your brother's gang once, I can whoop your ass any time. I can do it now, tomorrow, next week. Give me a date and I'll crack your fuckin' neck, Curly. I always liked your brother, but that don't mean I like him enough to let you pick on some poor guy and annoy the shit outta me. Get the hell outta here 'fore I make you, Curly."

Curly began to reach for his pocket, but Steve was faster and twisted his arm until Curly gave out a shriek. When Steve was satisfied with the look of pain on Shepard's face he let go.

Just then, Buck came out from the kitchen and glared at Curly and his friend.

"I thought I told you not to come in here no more, Shepard. You an' your friends ain't welcome here."

Curly glared at Buck, but slowly backed off.

"Fine, I'll get on outta here, but I ain't scared of you. This place is too boring, anyway. No action or nothing."

Steve rolled his eyes and Buck muttered darkly, stalking back to the kitchen.

Turning to the man, Steve extended his hand, about to introduce himself, but slowly withdrew it. Holy shit … Ackley? Was it really him? But, no, Carl Ackley had died in a Zippo raid. Then … how?

The man gave him a puzzled look, but extended his own hand. "John Ackley. I'm just coming through town. Didn't think I'd run into any trouble."

Steve jaw fell slightly as that deep voice came rushing back. He took John Ackley's hand and shook it, remembering another night quite like it where he'd shaken Carl Ackley's hand.

_"I don't give a shit what colo' you are, s'long as we get along. You dig it?"_

_Steve nodded, digging it. _

_"I mean, some guys ain't never trust a whitey, but I know you ain't all bad. I'll have your back s'long's you got mine. You dig that, too?"_

_Steve nodded again. He did. _

_Carl Ackley smiled and spat in his hand then extended it to shake. Steve did the same. They'd sworn on it and there was no going back._

They had the same build and smile, but John's eyes were darker, older than Carl's had been.

"You're Carl's older brother." It wasn't a question; it was a simple statement. He was Carl's brother.

It was John's turn to be shocked. His newspaper fell out of his hand and his hand dropped limply from Steve's. "How'd you know Carl?"

Steve smiled a little. "Lieutenant Carl Ackley. He was a good guy. Got there, gave me my instructions, called me dog shit, and then shook my hand. He was a good man."

"Kid."

Steve looked at John and saw a spark of anger in his eyes. "Huh?"

"Carl was a good kid. He wasn't no man. For Christ's sake, he wasn't even married yet. Engaged, but not married."

"Yeah … I remember. Kitty was her name."

John smiled. "Miss Kitty. Sweet as could be." John smiled a little wider, then slowly frowned. "What'd you do with yourself after you got home. If you don't mind me asking."

For some reason, Steve really didn't mind. "I did drugs, I guess. I mean, I lost my job already, I didn't have nothing. My old man died a few months after I got home and I got myself a place. I'm finally off of the drugs shit."

"What's that bottle, then?"

Steve looked surprised. "Well, I dunno. The last time I drank anything was December. I think I can do just one now. You dig what I mean?"

"Sure do. Had the same problem. But don't drink alone. You dig that? Never trust yourself too much."

Steve smiled a little. "Oh, I ain't alone ever. Always got someone to talk to."

John Ackley nodded and rose from his seat. "Well, I best be going, but it was good meeting you, Randle."

"You, too, John."

"If you're ever in Oklahoma City, look me up. Ackley, Jr."

"I'll do that." Steve extended his hand once more, grasping John's. He wondered briefly if he would have done this still had he never gone to 'Nam. Probably not. Hell, he wouldn't even be talking to John Ackley if he hadn't been drafted.

Steve sighed, knowing just how much would have been different, and walked off to find Two-Bit. He just wanted to get home and there was no damn way he was walking all the way to the bus stop.


	9. IX

**A/n: **I don't own _The Outsiders _by S.E. Hinton, nor do I own_ Bittersweet Symphony, _written by Richard Ashcroft and performed by The Verve.

* * *

_I can change, I can change,  
But I'm here in my mould, I am here in my mould.  
But I'm a million different people from one day to the next._

Evie smiled, letting him take her hand as he opened the door. Steve grinned at her, spinning her a little as they walked down the road. She hadn't had a date like this in months.

"Where will it be? The diner? Coffee house?"

Evie smiled again and looked up into Steve's eyes. For the first time in months they didn't seem to have any bags under them. No bags, no bloodshot eyes, no paranoid glances. For the first time in months, Steve Randle looked almost normal and happy.

Evie smiled, remembering their first "official" date. She'd only been fifteen and Steve sixteen. He'd been talking about how his father had let him fix up their old junker 'round back. That first date, Steve had driven Evie to the diner in that old car. Evie had secretly feared for her life as they sped down the road, Sodapop laughing and whooping in the back while Sandy tried desperately to slow him down.

Five years later Steve was still as reckless of a driver, but Evie never noticed it. Maybe she'd just gotten used to it.

As they made their way down the street, Evie leaned into Steve, listening to his complaints and just general talk. Something caught her ear, though, and Steve looked down at Evie, puzzled.

"I asked what you thought. I mean about me goin' back to school, you know? What do you think?"

She didn't know what exactly to think. "Well, Steve, that's … that's great! I mean, how are you going to afford it, though? Do you have any money?"

Steve shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, the Army don't pay too bad, and the old man left me some money 'fore he died. So, yeah, I guess I got enough money."

Evie thought for a moment, then grinned. Before she knew just what she was doing, she leapt up, wrapping her arms around Steve's neck, and kissed him. She felt him stumble backwards until he regained his balance and kissed her back. When they parted Steve gave a small laugh.

"That means you approve?"

"I think so." She grinned before hearing her stomach complain loudly. "Let's go get something to eat. I might starve soon."

Steve laughed and took her hand again, walking down the main road to the diner.

Turning the corner, Evie heard someone shout Steve's name. They turned to see a tall, dark man walk toward them.

Shit, she thought. "We're not talking to him, Steve."

Evie turned to Steve, who was rubbing his temples, looking nervous. Her stomach dropped. Had he been talking to him before? Too many feelings surged through her: anger, sadness, annoyance at assuming. She had no idea what to think.

Jim Thompson had crossed the street by now and was extending his hand to Steve.

"Hey, Randle. Long time no see. What's been keeping you?"

Steve shrugged and scratched his head nervously. "Just life, you know?" Jim smiled and nodded. Then his face turned a little more serious and his voice lowered. "I heard you kicked the habit. That true?"

Steve was quiet for a moment before answering slowly. "Yeah."

Jim nodded. "I … I ain't dealin' no more, either. You know, some bad shit happened and I guess I just quit."

Evie raised her eyebrow in question. Jim Thompson never just "quit." From the little she knew of him, he hadn't quit in fights, he never quit drinking, and he certainly never just quit where good money was coming in. "Just like that, you quit?"

Steve threw Evie a quick glance before looking back to Jim. "How'd you quit?"

Jim Thompson hadn't exactly just had only one foot in the water when he was dealing.

Jim looked down thoughtfully. "Well, I got one of them sketchy calls, you know? It was on the other side of town, all the way by the river. So, anyway, I went down to pick it up and we was doin' real good until…" Jim ran hand through his hair, a troubled look on his face. "Well, uh, you know how you always said I'd get in trouble with those pick-ups from the non-regulars?"

Steve nodded and Jim laughed nervously.

"Well, it was really goin' just fine an' then all the sudden these big brothers come bustin' on in with these rifles. One of 'em tells us to get on down. They lined us all up, an' I was sittin' there on the floor, thinkin' I was gonna die or something. Well, these guys started rummaging through all the draws an' all … They took everything, man. All the money, the smack; it's all gone. Then the first guy, we hear him cock his gun like he's gonna shoot … I don't know why the hell he didn't, but I know I ain't getting into that shit again."

Evie raised her eyebrow again, but this time in shock. "You're kidding, right?"

She felt Steve gently put his hand on her shoulder and she looked over. He looked as troubled as she felt.

"Naw, I ain't kiddin'. I think those guys would've killed me, too. Jesus, my mama always said God was looking out for me, but I think she was tellin' the truth. She wasn't shitting me."

"How long ago did this happen, Jimmy?"

"Just last week."

"Jesus Christ, man."

"Yeah, well, I ain't dealing this shit no more. I know a brother who can hook me up dealin' cars or something … just s'long as I don't get myself killed."

Steve nodded and extended his hand. "Hey, well, good for you, man. I've gotta get going, but, you know, it was good seeing you. Good luck to you. And tell me where you'll be working. I need a car."

Jim smiled and laughed. "Sure thing, man. Catch y'all later. Bye there, Missus," he said, nodding to Evie.

She blushed a little at being called "Missus," but nodded and smiled back.

They continued their walk to the diner, but suddenly their date seemed less exciting and like some weight had been placed on her. How much of a chance did guys like Jimmy Thompson have of getting out of dealing? But she did have one comfort. Steve really hadn't gone back.

* * *

She looked in the mirror and grinned. She didn't look half-bad. Her hair had been braided down her back and her shirt had a hippie-ish design, but much cleaner than the hippies kept theirs. 

For all the fighting they did, one thing she gave her family was the effort. They at least tried. Only sometimes it didn't work out so well …

* * *

_Evie stood in front of the mirror, combing her hair. She'd just gotten a haircut and she hoped Steve would like it. Finishing her hair, she looked in the mirror, satisfied with the way she looked._

_She slipped her shoes on and rolled her eyes at the usual sound of her father's and brother's constant bickering._

_"Shut the hell up, old man. You don't know shit!"_

_"I fucking know better than you, boy, and I know I had one more'n nineteen beers in there! Where's that other beer, boy?"_

_Typical … boozehounds arguing over booze. Just fucking typical._

_"Daddy, Andrew, I'm going out."_

_"I didn't take no goddamned beer, George!"_

_"Okay, I love you. Bye!" Evie was about to step out the door when … George? She'd never heard that one._

_Apparently George Kerrigan hadn't, either, because his face had reddened and his voice lowered dangerously."What'd you say, boy?" _

_"George, I didn't take your goddamned, fucking, shitty, cheap beer … George."_

_Evie winced as Andrew carelessly flicked the ashes of his cigarette onto the floor and smirked. Damnit, she'd just mopped in there, too._

_Mr. Kerrigan advanced on his son, his face dangerous. "What did you call me?" His teeth were clenched and his eyes seemed to bulge a little._

_"I told you, George. I didn't take no beer of yours. George is your name, right? I know it ain't my old man's name."_

_Evie blinked and Mr. Kerrigan's face went blank._

_"What?" she whispered, hardly audible, but somehow Andrew had heard._

_He looked over at Evie, his reckless glare softened to an apologetic smile. After a long pause, he sighed. "You heard me, Evie. He ain't my old man. He's yours, but he certainly isn't mine. You an' Mom both know it. And if this prick's gonna sit here and pretend he's my old man, then fine with me, but I'm not playing along."_

_Evie closed her eyes, trying to block the thought out, but she knew it was true. Her big brother, the guy she'd looked up to … he wasn't her true brother. She felt a lump rise in her throat. What the hell was this? She was crying over her half brother? At least she fucking had a brother._

_Before she could continue her train of thought, Mr. Kerrigan broke through._

_"Get out, you little shit! Get the fuck out!"_

_Andrew nodded and turned toward the back door without a second look._

_Evie's head began to spin as a beer bottle crashed on the closing door. She was that bottle._

* * *

She shook her head, snapping out of her daze. She was in front of her father's house by now, and she could see Andrew in the front window. Getting out of the car and walking to the door, she heard the two talking. Mr. Kerrigan wasn't calling him son and Andrew was still calling him George. That was just fine. 


	10. X

**A/n: **I do not own _The Outsiders, _by S.E. Hinton, nor do I own _The Real Me, _written by Pete Townshend and performed by The Who. Also, I do not own _Just My Imagination (Running Away With Me)_,written by Norman Whitfield and Barrett Strong and performed by The Temptations.

Okay, I know I haven't updated in nearly a month, because, frankly, I just suck and kind of put it off. But, here's an extra long chapter to compensate for how much I suck at updating. Enjoy!

Also, I know I don't reply to all of my reviews, but I read each one and I seriously appreciate them -- it's honestly my one reason for turning this oneshot into a ten chapter story. Thanks, you guys!

* * *

_I went back to my mother  
I said, "I'm crazy ma, help me."  
She said, "I know how it feels son,  
'Cos it runs in the family."_

"Steve, when was the last time you even talked to her?"

Steve got up from the bed and stretched. Evie's late night appearance at his door had been nice, to say the least, but he hadn't expected that she'd sleep over. He walked over to his drawer and shrugged. Honestly, he hadn't any idea. "I dunno, Evie. Not since I was younger, I guess."

"So you're just gonna barge in on her out in Oklahoma City?"

"She's my goddamned mother. I have the right to check in when I want to, don't I?"

"Not really when it's a woman you haven't seen in … oh, I don't know, five or six years."

Steve walked over to the bed and put his hand on Evie's. "I don't know why you're worrying, baby. I mean, usually you'd be the one talking me into seeing my whole family."

Evie sighed and shook her head. "It's not really that. I mean, I really do want you to see her, but Oklahoma City's far away … and I'm just … worried."

"That I'll do something stupid?"

"Well, there's that," she said, laughing a little.

Steve sighed and shook his head, trying to clear his mind. "Why don't you come with me, then? It's not some giant confrontation. Just a friendly 'hi, Ma, where the hell have you been for the last seven years?'"

"You don't really want me to come with you."

Steve got up again and walked over to the closet. Now she was just being difficult. "Well, I'm leaving in an hour. I've got Ernie's car … you know, the fat ass from the shop." He reached in and picked out a shirt, pulling it over his head quickly. All he really wanted to do was get there, ask something, _anything, _and get the hell out of there.

There was a brief silence and Steve turned on a record to compensate for it.

"Since when do you listen to Marvin Gaye?"

"Since I was a kid. My mom used to play him, actually …" Steve smiled at the memory. He'd only been around thirteen or so, but that was one of the few times he and his mother had ever bonded over something like music. "Well, are you coming or not, Evie? I gotta get moving."

"Uh, sure thing. Just let me get dressed, I guess. And we can take my car instead if you want."

"The Vista?"

"If it's still hanging in there …"

Steve snorted, knowing that his sixteen-year-old self would have been pissed to find him driving a car like an Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser. It was no muscle car, but if it got him where he needed to be, he wasn't complaining. "Send it over to the shop … I'll have it looked at," he said, walking to the kitchen.

"Mmhm," came Evie's muffled reply.

Checking his watch, Steve sighed and began to pour a bowl of cereal. In all honesty, this was far from something he was looking forward to.

XxXxX

"Evie, if you touch that radio again, I swear to God, I'm gonna drive off the fucking road."

Evie threw her boyfriend an annoyed look, but laid off the dial.

"Fuck. I hate this song," Steve muttered, tightening his grip on the wheel.

"Well, you asked me to stop turning stations. They just _happen _to be playing a song you don't like." As an after thought, Evie teased: "I can change it again if you want."

"Don't you dare," Steve laughed.

"C'mon, sing it with me, Stevie. '_It was just my imagination running away with me._'"

Steve shook his head, concentrating on the road and trying to block Evie's off-key singing out.

"_Steve,_" she continued. "_Stevie_."

"Damnit, girl. You know you really know how to nag." Steve shook his head and smiled a little. "_Just my imagination running away with me_."

"What are the rest of the lyrics? '_Soon we'll be married and raise a family_.'"

"Oh, hell no." Steve quickly turned the station, laughing. "I'm not talking about that shit now."

Evie pouted and put her hand on Steve's arm. "When will you talk about it, Steve?"

"Shit, I don't know, Evie. Someday."

"Really?"

Steve took his gaze from the road and glanced at Evie. Half of her looked like she was only teasing, but he knew that look all too well. He took her hand and squeezed it, sighing. "Yeah, I mean it. Someday."

There was a comfortable silence in the car until Evie spoke up. "You know, I talked to Tommy the other day."

Shit, he really didn't want to talk about this now. "What'd you talk about?" He was almost afraid to ask.

"Well, I told him it was for the better that we didn't talk anymore. I still like him as a friend, and I don't think that'll change, but I just don't think it's really appropriate to talk to him … seeing the circumstances, you know."

Steve thought for a moment, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. He cracked the window, watching the smoke curl out of the car from the corner of his eye. After a few minutes, he spoke. "Well, Evie … I'm not going to tell you who to be friends with and who not to be, but I do appreciate that. I mean, hell, if you want to stay friends with the guy," he spoke slowly, sighing. "Well, I can't stop that. But I need to know that you're my girl and not some rich bastard's."

"He's not 'some rich bastard.' He's a nice man, you know."

"Evie, I know that … but he _is _rich. I mean, look at the side of town he grew up on."

"Steve, please. We're past that kid shit."

"I know we are, hon. I'm only saying, he didn't exactly grow up paying half of the house bills from the looks of it."

"Neither did you, Steve."

"I paid for the TV and my own damn car."

Evie sighed and tapped her fingers against the dashboard. She seemed to be getting fed up with this. "Let's just stop arguing. I just wanted to tell you I'm not really talking to him anymore."

"And I'm telling you that you can if you really want to, but I want to know that you're here for good." _That you're not gonna walk out like that bitch did, _he wanted to say.

"Well, I am. I'm not like … you know … those other girls, I guess. I'm in it for the long run."

Steve took a long drag on his cigarette and passed it over to Evie. "Okay, okay. Let's just get to the city in one piece. It's a wonder your car hasn't stopped on me right here and now."

"Aw, she's not _that _bad."

"Once I get done with it you shouldn't have any problems. I just don't know why you didn't bring this damn thing in earlier."

"Honestly, the last thing on my mind is a car. You know that."

"Yeah," he agreed. "But still. I mean, you could at least get your windshield wipers replaced." He looked at the streaks on the windshield, obviously left from the wipers. "Bring it in Tuesday and I'll replace them."

"Okay, sure."

XxXxX

"Are you sure this is where she lives?"

"Almost positive. I found her address on an old letter my dad wrote her. You know, back when she first left. Why they kept in touch, I have no freaking idea."

"Steve, that was seven years ago. I mean for all we know, she's moved to California."

"If she has, then she has. But let's at least check it out."

The apartment building was shanty and small, but it could have been much worse. _It could look like mine, _Steve thought.

They walked in and Steve took out the envelope with his mother's address, just for reassurance that they were in the right place. Then the two walked to the floor guide.

"Loraine Randle …" Evie muttered, dragging her finger along the names. "Third floor … room 22A."

"Told you she still lived here." He threw her a smirk and then added: "Alright, let's go."

"You're sure you really want to talk to her?"

"I didn't drive an hour and forty-five minutes to turn back. Yeah, I'm sure."

The two made their way to the stairs and began to walk up. Reaching the third level, they walked down the hall and immediately found the door they were looking for.

"Jesus, she never did shit like this when she lived at home," Steve said, tracing the wooden "welcome" sign that was hanging on the door.

"Do we even know she's home? I mean, you probably should have called first."

"I realize that. They call it hindsight." He knocked on the door twice and then stepped back.

They could hear footsteps inside, and then a response. "Who is it?"

"Uh …" Oh, Christ. He had no idea what to really say.

"It's Steve," Evie said, through the door.

"Steve …" The door opened a crack to reveal a middle aged woman. For forty-six, Steve didn't think she looked bad at all. "Steve who?" The woman's mouth dropped when she got a proper look at her son. "Oh my God. Steven?"

"Uh … yeah. Hey, Mom."

Before he could say anything else, he was pulled into his mother's tight embrace. Hr winced a little, trying to break her hold. "My baby. Stevie!" She pushed him back gently and looked her son over. "Oh, Stevie. You've grown."

"Well, uh, yeah. I mean I ain't fourteen anymore, Mom."

Loraine looked almost troubled by that comment and looked to Evie. After a moment, she seemed to recognize the thirteen-year-old neighbor girl that had grown into the woman in front of her. "Evelyn Kerrigan. Is that really you?"

"Yes, ma'am," Evie said.

"Christ, you've both grown so much … How's everyone else? Here, come in." Loraine stepped back to allow her son and Evie inside. Steve threw his girlfriend a look, obviously unsure of what to do.

"Take a seat. I was just making dinner."

The inside of the place looked considerably better than the outside hallway. It was neat and had a comfortable, flowery scent -- something Steve remembered from when he was about fourteen. The three walked over to the small living room and sat down.

"So, tell me: how is everyone? What about that Mathews boy? Has he changed at all?" There was a small glimmer of laughter in her eyes, thinking about Two-Bit's antics.

"Yeah, he's still kicking. Still pretty funny, too," Steve said, shrugging.

"And what about Sodapop? He was such a sweet boy."

Steve tensed, barely noticing Evie's hand on his leg. Everything he'd been avoiding talking about came crashing back.

_He's dead. Dead, dead, dead. _

Steve couldn't even place this voice. His father's antagonistic voice? No, that wasn't it. Soda's? No, Sodapop would never say something in those words.

What if it was his own? It must have been. But Steve would _never _admit such a thing about his best friend. Even two years later. Oh, God. It hadn't _really _been that long, had it?

"He's dead." Steve croaked the words out, his voice hardly audible, catching at a lump in his throat.

_Dead … You said it! He said it! Look, he couldn't even admit it! Ole Stevie's still in denial!_

This wasn't Bill's voice. Not Soda's, not Steve's. But it was Steve's! He just couldn't … wouldn't admit it.

"Honey …" Loraine looked like she wanted to hug her youngest son, to comfort him after all those years. "Baby … how?"

"Vietnam … Viet-fucking-Nam. Goddamned Cong shot him."

She sighed shakily. "When your father wrote and told me you were drafted -- I was so worried, baby. I cried every night, you know that? I couldn't bear to lose another son."

"Then why didn't you fucking write, Mom? Why didn't you visit us all these years? You're a fucking hypocrite!"

Loraine looked hurt by her son's words, almost like she wanted to cry. "Steven … you don't get it, honey. I wanted to."

"Then why _didn't _you?"

"I was so afraid, honey. I was afraid of what you'd think of me for leaving you, that you wouldn't respond."

"Bullshit," he yelled.

"Steve!" Evie pulled Steve back into the seat. He hadn't even noticed he was standing.

"It's true, Evie. She don't give a shit."

Loraine Randle now had tears in her eyes and was staring at the floor. "I do, Steve. I just … couldn't. Did your father ever even tell you why I left?"

He hadn't. Steve shook his head, looking at his mother intently now.

This time Loraine sighed and stood up. "Well, I guess I've got some explaining to do. Let me get something to eat for you two."

They sat, and a moment later, she came back with three beers and some peanuts. "It was the only suitable snack I could find."

"That's fine," Steve said, handing a beer to Evie and leaving the one apparently meant for him on the table.

"You don't want yours?"

"I don't drink much anymore."

His mother nodded and handed him a glass of water instead.

"So, what were you gonna tell us?"

Loraine took a sip of her drink before starting. "I was eighteen when I had your brother, you know that, don't you?" She waited for Steve to nod and continued. "Well, I mean, I never planned that … I was supposed to go to college, get out of Tulsa. But things happened and your father offered to marry me. I thought we were in love, honey, I really did."

"So you left him after twenty years of marriage 'cause by then you'd finally figured it out?"

"I'd had you six years later, and I was going to leave then, take William and you. But your father … I really did love him by then. He was good to me and William, and I couldn't take care of you two on my own." She sighed, bracing herself for the reaction she knew Steve would have next. "And then, when you were ten, William died … you remember, don't you?"

"So, you couldn't take that pain and just took off? I mean, not even considering you had another damn son?"

"Steve … you have to understand, I knew I couldn't take care of you on my own. Your father could. He had a job --"

"Because what he was making could definitely support us, right?"

"It kept you in a clean house, food in your stomach, and clothes on your back!"

"Hardly. I was helping pay the bills by the time I was _thirteen_, mom. Did you know that?"

Loraine sighed. "I'd assumed it would happen. Still, honey … I couldn't take care of you. Leaving you with Bill -- I mean I knew he'd never physically hurt you and he'd keep you in a good home."

"Because kicking me out on a near weekly basis is just good parenting, right?"

"Steven, you don't get it, do you? Your father supported you. I know how many chances he must have had to leave you, look for me, or just go off. But he didn't he stayed and I knew he would. He loved you so much."

Steve thought about all the money his father had given him, how it'd helped him save up for a car, helped him buy that cheap engagement ring that he'd never given Evie. He supposed things could have been much worse. His father could have been another Junior Winston, booting his son out at the age of ten, almost permanently, or another Marvin Cade, beating his son until the kid was afraid of his own shadow. Steve knew things could have been so much worse.

"So you did it out of some twisted love then?"

Loraine looked hurt by Steve's wording, but nodded. "I left because I needed to … I couldn't stick around. But I left you with your father because I knew he'd be good to you. Do you understand that?"

"Yeah … somehow I do."

"Well, what happened since … you know."

"Since you left? A lot. I watched Dallas Winston get shot down at seventeen, I graduated high school, went to Vietnam, did a few drugs, drank, got clean."

"God, Steve. I really had no idea …"

"Yeah, well, you weren't really around. I mean … you know I get why, but still. You couldn't have visited? Given us any clue to where you were?"

"I'm guessing you only know where I live now by chance, right?"

"I was looking through some of Dad's old shit and I found a letter you wrote to him. Thought I'd give it a try."

"You know, honey, I'm kind of glad you did."

"Yeah, well, someone kind of nagged me to see you, but I guess it was for the better."

Loraine looked at Evie and smiled, but Steve was glad his mother didn't really know who'd told him. He'd keep it a secret.

_For the better, _he thought.


	11. XI

Oh, wow. Hi. It's only been a few months ... I really have no excuse for updating, other than I hit a dry spell. But here it is, chapter eleven. I should be wrapping this up fairly soon, though. Probably just one more chapter to go.

Well, anyway, a big, big, big thanks to Queen Jane Approximately for editing this for me so many months ago. It was a giant help. :)

A few disclaimers: As always, I do not own _The Outsiders_, written by S.E. Hinton, and am not making any profit off of this. I also don't own _Wild Horses, _written by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, and preformed by The Rolling Stones. The song _1921, _written by Pete Townshend for the rock opera Tommy, and performed by The Who does not, in any way, shape, or form, belong to me.

Enjoy! Reviews are love. :)

* * *

_I watched you suffer a dull aching pain  
Now you decided to show me the same  
No sweeping exits or offstage lines  
Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind_

If there were three women Evie wished she looked like, it was Rita Hayworth with her curls, Marilyn Monroe with that smile that just beamed -- almost yelling to the world that she was on top of it. She was ready for anything! And then there was Jackie Kennedy, the

President's widow, who even after her husband's death, had retained a style and grace than any girl would envy. She remembered the President's death vividly. She'd just stopped by the school supply store to buy some paper when she overheard some girls going over the various rumors that had found their way through the school. It was a North Korean that had snuck into the country just to kill our president! It was a whole conspiracy and the vice president was behind it!

It was only an hour later that Mrs. Dubose came in, tears streaming down her face. "President Kennedy has been shot in Dallas." That was all she had to say for a silent, stunned audience -- the most attentive she'd ever seen her class.

Evie remembered feeling horrid after hearing the news. The poor First Lady …

And yet the woman continued to be a thing of class and beauty, and Evie admired her endlessly for it. If there were three women she wished she looked like, she'd take Rita's name and hair, Marilyn's smile and charm, and Jackie's class and style.

But a girl like Evie knew she'd never have any of those things. She was pretty, but not beautiful. She had a nice smile, but not one that beamed. She had nice clothes, but they were mostly homemade; she could never match the fashions of the former first lady.

So maybe that explained why she clung to Steve so desperately, why she was so afraid to lose him. He was the one thing she'd always had. She was the little girl that had always hung around his door step, the teenage girl with more attitude than height, and the girl who became Steve's first kiss. It had just always been that way.

Even people like Tommy, who treated her with unconditional kindness, couldn't change that.

Could they?

XxXxX

Evie marched up the stairs as she did every day after work. The trip down in the morning was fine, but after being on her feet all day at the salon, and then trudging up six flights of stairs, her legs were ready to give in by the time she got home.

But today, nothing -- absolutely nothing -- could keep a smile from her face. College! He'd actually been accepted into a college. Sure, it was community, but he had made it. And, to be honest, it wasn't like she'd never had her doubts. Steve had always been such a hard worker in school -- he'd even canceled a few dates (one or two every so often) to study for a test or a final -- but still, she'd couldn't help but wonder sometimes. No matter how hard he'd worked, he'd always gotten B's and C's, with an occasional A. Nothing exceptional; average.

And yet he'd made it. Evie was proud of him, too. Steve had come into the salon at lunch to tell her. He had the letters with him and that big, lopsided grin he always wore.

The only thing that had troubled her was … No, that didn't matter. It was typical, wasn't it? Good news always meant a few rounds with the guys. Why wouldn't it have been any different with Steve? He'd just had some of the best news of his life: why not go drinking? It wasn't like he'd been drinking constantly since October. And it'd been seven months since the intervention.

No, she merely thought she smelled it on him. And even if she had smelled it, it wasn't anything to worry about. Another thought for another day.

As Evie settled onto the couch and rested her legs from the climb, looking forward to an evening on her own, Susan came into the small sitting room, grinning from ear to ear.

"Big date?" Evie asked, closing her eyes.

"Not for me, for you."

"Me? What do you mean?" Evie raised her eyebrow in that way Two-Bit had taught her.

Suzy dug through her purse until she pulled out a piece of loose-leaf. She cleared her throat and read: "'I'll pick you up at six. Dress up. It's important.' He told me to read it just like that. Six o'clock sharp."

"What else could he possibly have to tell me? I though I'd gotten all the good news I could get for one day."

"Well, obviously not," Suzy said in the obnoxious, matter-of-fact way she had. "You should get ready. It's already five."

Evie rolled her eyes and glanced first at the clock, then at those heels she'd been wearing all day -- the heels she'd have to wear again for her date.

"I'm going, I'm going," she grumbled.

XxXxX

Evie stepped out of her room and sighed. She couldn't seem to get herself to look nice enough, no matter how hard she tried. That one strand of hair at the top of her head was driving her nuts. No matter how she tried to spray it down, it just wouldn't stay. Her feet would be swollen by the end of the night from those damned heels, and her dress just didn't want to sit right on her. She could only hope she looked decent.

Where could Steve even take her that required her to look this nice? Nowhere either of them could afford.

The clock was on the six exactly as Evie sat down, waiting for Steve's loud knock on the door.

Six-o-one and Suzy sat next to her, still smiling, but looking pensive. Finally, she spoke. "Evie, consider the proposition before you actually accept it."

"What?" But Evie hadn't any time to consider her roommate's words, as Steve's loud bang of a knock came from the other side of the door.

"Oh, nothing. Good luck, Evie. I won't be home until two -- I'm working at Buck's tonight."

Evie nodded and smiled. "How do I look?"

"Lovely." There was a slight tone in Susan's voice that Evie couldn't place. Envy? Sarcasm? Sadness? She really hadn't any idea.

The knock came once more, louder, more impatient. "Bye, Su!" And with that, Evie was out the door and into Steve's tight embrace. He kissed her lightly, holding her in one arm and closing the door with his free hand.

"Shall we?" Steve offered her his arm and they began their descent down the six flights of stairs.

XxXxX

"Steve, the diner?" So she'd been right. There were no extravagant restaurants that either of them could afford to go to. Just the dinner where they were both overdressed. Steve was wearing a suit and tie, something she hadn't seen him in since their prom. Evie had on her best -- and favorite -- dress. The rest of the visitors and regulars were in the same clothes they'd worn to work or school. But still, Evie was wondering what could have been so important that Steve had asked her to dress her best.

Steve gave her a sheepish smile. "Well, it was where we went on our first date ..."

He actually remembered that? That had been five years ago ... And neither of them had looked anywhere as nice as they did now.

"Let's find a seat," Steve said, taking her hand and leading her to the back of the diner.

The London Family Diner was a small, shabby place that had been sitting in the same location since the early 50's. No matter how shabby the place appearance, it brought in regulars, travelers, and everything in between. Given the diner's reputation, it was no surprise to any regular to see a couple come in dressed up as both Steve and Evie were. So, the two made their way to the far back of the diner, their orders already in their minds before the waitress could get to them.

As soon as their orders were taken, however, Steve and Evie had run out of things to discuss. Evie was beginning to roll tiny napkin paper balls and Steve was shifting nervously.

"Anything bugging you?" Evie finally asked.

"Uh … nothing. It's just really hot in here is all."

If you asked Evie, the place was too cold for her liking. Finally, the food came and they ate in silence. Had they gotten this dressed up for absolutely nothing? Evie finished her dinner and waited, in boredom, for Steve to finish his. She tried to make small conversation as he ate, but abandoned that idea when she couldn't think of anything. She fiddled with the tablecloth, wiggled her feet, trying to get comfortable in her shoes, and hummed to the song on the radio. None of those things seemed to work, as the time passed slower than ever. At last, Steve finished his meal.

They left in silence as soon as the check was paid. A whole night wasted dressing up. It wasn't like she hadn't appreciated the dinner … it was just that she'd wasted time putting on her best dress and making sure she looked nice.

Evie fiddled with the radio, switching from James Taylor to The Who and stared out the window. After a while, she noticed they were driving closer to the high school.

"Steve, where're we going?"

"You'll see." He sounded more excited now than he'd seemed all night.

Evie took her station back at the window, humming to the Who song that she didn't actually know. _I had no reason to be over optimistic, but somehow when you smiled I could brave bad weather. _

As the song ended, Evie felt the car stop. Were they there already? She waited for Steve to open the door and let her out and then followed his lead. They were at the high school by the hill.

_Shit._ Evie though. _I'm not climbing up that thing in these heels._

"Hang on … I'm taking my shoes off." She did so, and the grass felt nice on her bare feet as Evie continued following Steve.

Finally, at the top of the hill, Steve stopped. It overlooked the football field where they used to go to watch the games.

She felt Steve's hand move to the small of her back and smiled. She still couldn't understand why they'd dressed up, but it felt nice. And Steve seemed happy -- actually, he seemed completely giddy. Finally, he turned to her and knelt down, his right hand behind his back and his left holding hers.

Evie's stomach dropped a good mile and she tried desperately to catch her breath. Or at least keep from crying.

"_Yes_!"

Steve gave her a crooked smile and laughed. That same booming laugh that she'd tried to forget months ago. How could she try to forget that? "I haven't even asked yet."

"Well, my answer is yes, no matter what."

He smiled again and took a deep breath. "Evelyn Jane Kerrigan, will you marry me?"

"Of course!" She didn't even attempt to hold back any tears as Steve, a sober, smiling Steve, hugged her.

Evie smiled again and held tightly to Steve as he tried to slip the ring onto her finger. Everything that had happened over the last five years seemed so minor, so insignificant. From an angry teenage boy to a hot-headed soldier, a depressed, angry war veteran to a drunk and an addict … and now a smiling, happy fiancé. For now, their trials, their past, and everything that had happened over the last few months were behind them. Nothing else in the world mattered.


	12. XII

*deep breath* Here goes nothing! Here's the epilogue of Intervention. I kept putting it off because, well, I guess I didn't want to end it. But here it is. Enjoy the epilogue. :) Concrit is welcome with open arms.

I do not own, in any way, shape, or form, _The Outsiders_, by S.E. Hinton, nor do I own _On the Road to Find Out_, written and performed by Cat Stevens (Yusuf Islam).

Thanks so, so much to my betas, Hahukum Konn and Marauder and The Q.

* * *

_So on and on I go, the seconds tick the time out  
There's so much left to know, and I'm on the road to findout  
Then I found myself alone, hopin' someone would miss me  
Thinking about my home, and the last woman to kiss me_

Waking up in an empty bed still scared him sometimes. After Evie had left the first time, he never was able to get used to sleeping alone. That was just the problem, being alone. He hated having no one to wrap his arms around, to pull closer to him, and hold him just as he held her. That's what scared him, not having Evie to hold on to.

He didn't blame her, of course not. If anything, he admired her for having the courage to get out. At first he'd hated her. He hated her for taking his kids with her, for leaving him alone, in pain. Now he was grateful, even if he was still hurt. But he was hurting in so many ways, it didn't quite make any difference. The scars on his arms from years of putting a needle killed, his migraines were progressing to an even worse state each day, and inside of him he still felt an emptiness that no steady job, wife, kids, or pack of cigarettes could fill. He was empty and aching, and he didn't know why.

When Steve rolled over and didn't see Evie next to him, his heart skipped. It wasn't until he heard her familiar voice that he calmed down.

"William, Patrick, get out of bed right now. If you make us late, so help me God..."

Steve grinned, remembering what day it was. He got out of bed and began to dress.

"Mom, I don't see the big deal. We see Uncle Michael and Uncle Darry all the time. Why's today special?"

Steve stepped out of his room just in time to keep Patrick and Will from beating each other to a pulp. "Not today, guys. C'mon, it's a special day."

"What's so great about today?" Will asked.

"Nothing in particular. Your aunt and uncle are just throwing a barbecue."

"And it would be nice if you two would get your acts together and behave for once," Evie said. She had an air about her that Steve admired. It demanded both respect and authority, which Steve could never get with his sons. "That means no picking on your cousins, either."

"Not even a little?"

"No, not at all," Steve said. "I don't want Darry beatin' the tar out of me again."

Patrick grinned. "Uncle Darry beat you up? Cool!"

"Yeah, you wouldn't be saying 'cool' if you had to eat food through a straw for a month."

"Aww, Dad, you're just getting old."

"Hey, I'm only forty. I'm not that old."

"It's older than fifteen," Patrick said. Will must have tired of the conversation, as he was trailing after Evie, helping her load the car.

"Oh, you can do math, good for you, smartass. Now go upstairs and help Lori get all her shit."

Patrick ran off to his sister's room, which Steve suddenly realized was a horrible idea. An argument was bound to ensue, probably Lori complaining about this boy or that boy, and how they were all ruining her life, and could just go hell, thanks very much. For whatever reason, Evie understood why Lori had, as if overnight, turned into a monster bitch. He'd never understand how she put up with Lori. He never remembered Evie being such a pain in the ass at fifteen.

Steve sat down on the couch and sighed, opening a new pack of cigarettes. For a drug counselor, he was a pretty lousy hypocrite. Evie came in from the driveway and sat next to him, curling into his arms.

"Your sons are monsters."

"Your daughter scares the shit out of me."

Evie smiled and kissed him. "Are you sure you want to go? Darrel would understand if you missed it, you know."

Steve sighed. Hell no, he wasn't ready. He remembered seeing the Weeping Wall once, and telling himself he'd find all of his friend's names on there. Well, he did, but the one he couldn't bring himself to look at was Soda's. Now his best friend had been dead for twenty-two years and it still hurt, just as bad as the day he found out. "Yeah, I can go."

Evie hugged him tightly and buried her face in his neck. He felt her hand gently rub the spot on his arm where his scars still lay; the scars she'd bravely left him over, and even more bravely come back to.

Sure, he didn't have Sodapop Curtis, but he at least had another best friend. That at least meant something to him.

Suddenly there was a crash from upstairs, which was followed by the slam of a door. The two ignored it for a moment longer, until Steve looked down at his wife and kissed her. "I think Carrie White is on the loose again."

Evie sighed. "You take Patrick, I take Lori?"

"I guess that's how it always goes."

Evie got up to talk to their daughter, and Steve followed to find Patrick. He caught up to her and wrapped his arm around his waist, pulling her closer. Things weren't the same, nor would they ever be, he knew that. But things were at least better. So long as he had someone to come home to, three kids who could never get along and a wife, he knew things would at least be okay. Not perfect, but that was just fine. He still had plenty of time to mend the wounds he had. Today would be one of them. Today was Soda's birthday.


End file.
